My Cat

Basic info about one cat who lives in Tyrone, GA.

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She lives for treats, but will tolerate (or sometimes insist upon) bouts of human affection.

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She's a bit of the outdoorsy type, napping now in shafts of this dawn's light, upon red GA clay and American leaves of grass. The fitful clover is, by association, Irish? Irish-American. FACT: most clovers own 3 leaves, but a lucky one might spy the kinda rare 4-leafed iteration. TIP: Encase these in Scotch Tape and gift them to a grand-nephew.

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Her name is Tachikoma, and I sing 🎶Tachi-koma-ko🎶 (from Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex) at her.

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She is the colors of a forest floor, except for the aquamarine of her round eyes, and quite chubby. i.e. gorgeous

Once, after a terrific storm, I saw her drinking rain from the bowing stems of long grass.(Now our municipally-mandated— for to, thank God unsuccessfully, price-out black folk—acre is mown, after the fashion of long-dead, European nobles, though unlike them, we 'big-d Democratic' Americans mow it ourselves, or haggle with the neighbor boy, Chris.)

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In her youth, she was called Grace. She lived in a home dominated by a manic woman, who was overly fond of vacuuming. She thusly justly feared all humans, and spent her first months in our care hiding beneath every and all available beds.

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...BONUS FACT: Cats are, like me, you, my grass, clover, and all other things known and un, wrought by and in stardust! Bye